“You will go back to Norway, I suppose?” asked Roy.
“Yes, I suppose so; as soon as possible. To-morrow I must see if there is any possibility of getting back in fair time. Unluckily, it is too late for the Wilson Line steamer, which must be starting at this minute from Hull.”
“I will come in to-morrow, then, and see what you have decided on,” said Roy. “Is there nothing I can do for you now?”
“Nothing, thank you,” said Frithiof. And Roy, feeling that he could be of no more use, and that his presence was perhaps a strain on his friend, wished him good-night and went out.
The next day he was detained by business and could not manage to call at the Arundel till late in the afternoon. Noticing the same waiter in the hall who had been present on the previous evening, he inquired if Frithiof were in.
“Herr Falck has gone, sir,” said the man; “he went off about an hour ago.”
“Gone!” exclaimed Roy, in some surprise. “Did he leave any message?”
“No, sir; none at all. He was looking very ill when he came down this morning, but went out as soon as he had had breakfast, and didn’t come back till four o’clock. Then he called for his bill and ordered his portmanteau to be brought down and put on a hansom, and as he passed out he gave me a trifle, and said he had spoken a bit sharp to me last night, he was afraid, and thanked me for what I had done for him. And so he drove off, sir.”
“You didn’t hear where he was going to?”
“No, sir; I can’t say as I did. The cab, if I remember right, turned along the Embankment, toward Charing Cross.”